


Game: Start

by Wilbur



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilbur/pseuds/Wilbur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name is John Egbert and he is dating your brother. You have never hated anyone more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game: Start

**Author's Note:**

> Bro/Older!John + Jealous Dave.
> 
> Written for the kink meme: http://homesmut.livejournal.com/8284.html?thread=11608924#t11608924  
> (gosh is that all I do? :|)
> 
> (Also note: John doesn't appear yet in this chapter).

Bro's room is dark and messy and the only thing Dave can see is him sitting at his desk, the glare of the computer shining against his face. Bro's knows he's there, of course, but makes no move to acknowledge him. He always lets Dave make the first move.

But Dave isn't interested in that just yet. He's eight years old and he's hardly ever put a foot in Bro's room - not that he's ever really wanted to before now. It's not much different from his own, just littered with more puppets and clothes and shitty swords.

In the dark he can just see the outline of another figure lying in Bro's bed. It's never really struck him before how many girls he's seen come through this house, never the same one twice. He wonders, for a moment, where they all go afterwards. Then he shakes his head, walks right up to Bro and asks, as blatantly as he can, "Where do babies come from?"

Bro glances down at him, then back up to his computer, then back down to Dave. Dave manages to take a sneak peak at Bro's computer, only to be greeted by photos of smuppets in various positions. He doesn't really understand what it is, so he stops looking at it.

Bro pauses a moment before answering, and Dave hopes he's not about to give him the stork bullshit again. He's had it three times from three different teachers at school, and he knows they're all lying by the way their eyes never meet his. But Bro's different. He'd never lie, especially not to Dave.

He swivels his chair to face Dave completely and begins, matter-of-factly (and Dave can't help but feel like he's being read a book), "Well, Dave, when a lame chump loves a lady friend a lot, they have something called sex. A girl has a hole, a dude has a tube, and a baby grows from their mixed genes inside the girl. But not you, lil bro," he ruffles his hair fondly and Dave can't get away fast enough to stop him from ruining his hair. "You came down riding on a meteor, like some sick shooting star."

Dave nods. He still doesn't quite know what the meteor thing means, but he lets that slide for now. "I knew the stork was a lie," he says confidently.

Bro laughs, ruffling his hair again, but Dave doesn't mind so much this time because Bro laughing is possibly one of the greatest things he's heard. "Oh man, I can't believe someone actually told you that story. Shit is so unironic, it's nowhere near cool. Teacher's don't know shit."

Dave nods again, because it's true. Teacher's don't know shit, and Bro always knows best. He gets up from his chair and pats his shoulder. "You're gonna be late for school. I'll drive you."

"I can run," Dave says automatically.

He laughs, and this time Dave manages to get away before Bro ruins his hairstyle. "This isn't up for debate. Any other kid would literally be slaughtering the masses to be where you are right now, so shut up and take it," he says, picking up a helmet from the floor and tossing it at him.

Dave catches it, barely concealing a grin. Yeah, he did love it when Bro drove him to school on his motorbike. It was probably illegal, but if they were being perfectly honest, neither of them really cared. Besides, Dave got to wear Bro's old helmet (a bit too big for his head, but awesome nonetheless) and sit in front of him. It was, possibly, one of the greatest things in the world.

Dave slinks off to grab his school stuff without another word.

  
-

  
Bro's waiting for him again when school finishes, and Dave can't believe how lucky he is. Bro dropping him off _and_ picking him up? Usually he was busy working or updating one of his websites or just way too lazy to pick his little brother up.

He looks so cool leaning against the motorbike outside the school, ignoring the dirty looks the other parents were giving him. It makes Dave swell up with pride, though hell would probably freeze over before showed it. Bro is, without a doubt, the coolest motherfucker that has ever walked the earth. And he knew it.

Dave catches the helmet Bro tosses at him and he takes his bag, slinging it over his shoulder so Dave can pull himself up in front. Then he's driving, zooming away from school and the wind has never felt so good against his skin.

The lady friend is gone by the time they get home, but Dave's not surprised. He just dumps himself down on the couch and grabs an xbox controller, but Bro's already snatched it out of his hands before he can press anything. "No way," he says. "Don't you have some shitty school project to do?"

Dave frowns, wondering how he knew about that. Of course he knows. That's just what it meant to be a Strider. In all honesty, it was a stupid project; who even cared about dinosaurs and what happened to them anymore? No one he knew. But apparently the teacher did, and apparently the teacher liked to give them patronizing projects to draw and colour their own "little dino friend."

Bro sees the scowl Dave didn't even know he had and gives a little chuckle. "Come on, Dave. If it's not too shit, you can choose dinner."

Dave perks up a little at that. Or, at least, the scowl is gone from his face. He mumbles something that barely comes out as, "make pancakes?"

Bro knows what he means. "Well, you know my pancakes are so poisonous they're banned in 29 states, but whatever. Your death," he says, but Dave knows he's kidding. Bro's pancakes were, like everything else he did, the very best. "Those had better be some stunning fucking dinosaurs."

He cooks while Dave draws and writes up some dodgy facts about dinosaurs that he doesn't really believe ( _"I mean, come on, a meteor fell on them? I rode down on a meteor, they couldn't kill anyone." "That's 'cause you're a Strider, bro. Nothing can hurt a Strider."_ ). Bro sits down at one point and draws a picture so horribly incorrect that it can hardly be called a dinosaur. He laughs and Dave laughs and he decides to keep it there because, in all honesty, it's probably the best thing on the paper so far.

Of course it is. Bro drew it.

The pancakes are, like he expected, nothing short of perfect. In fact, they're so far past perfect that God himself aspires to be as perfect as those pancakes. Or something. Whatever, all Dave cared about was getting them inside his stomach as quick as possible. They're topped with blueberries and cream and for some reason they're all shaped like smuppets.

Afterwards, the two of them take to the roof and strife, but Dave is so much worse than usual because his stomach's full with delicious, godly pancakes. After a while they have to stop because, as Dave soon finds out, pancakes don't taste anywhere near as good coming back up the other way.

So instead they head back downstairs and Dave challenges him to a different kind of strife on the xbox. Bro kicks his ass, of course, but Dave doesn't really care because, hell, it's Bro. Dave knows he's a busy man, what with his DJ gigs and websites to maintain and hell, he's just pleased that he can monopolize his time like that.

Then Bro's turning off the xbox and ruffling his hair and Dave swears that if he doesn't stop that he will personally chop his hand off when he's sleeping. "Time for bed, Dave."

He just nods, because it's half past eight and he's already feeling tired. Before he goes, he asks, "Are you going out again tonight?"

Bro doesn't stop to think for very long before he answers, "Yeah, probably. You're a big boy, you don't need me here to sing you to sleep." He pauses. "Unless you want me to? 'Cause I have to warn you, my singing's pretty terrible. You could shoot birds down with that shit."

Dave pushes him away and Bro's laughing. "No way!" he says, stalking away into his room. "Just hurry up and go already!"

"Yes, sir," Bro smirks - ironically, Dave thinks, for the first time really understanding what he means - and he goes to bed.

He doesn't sleep very much, though, because at some point during the night - a bit after midnight, his clock blinks - he hears Bro get home. He's not the only one, too. Dave can hear someone else with him, a woman's voice, and he briefly wonders if she's there to make a baby. But that's silly. He's had all those other girls, and none of them have had babies. Well, as far as he knows.

Dave can hear them through the walls. Not that he couldn't hear them before, but this time he's really listening for it, his eight-year-old mind wondering what sex sounds like. From what he can hear it sounds kind of painful, though he can't hear Bro at all. All he can hear is her crying out almost painfully.

Dave doesn't sleep at all that night.

  
-

  
"You going out again tonight?" Dave's eyes never leave the TV screen, hands trained around the controller. His face is carefully blank, just like Bro taught him.

Bro's just come out of the shower, towel drying his hair. "Yeah," he says. "You'll be fine. Dinner's on the table if you want it."

"Bro, I'm twelve. I can handle myself," Dave says.

"Fine then, starve," Bro says. The next moment he's sitting next to you, fully dressed, hair completely dry. Dave still doesn't know how he does that. He can't get his hair dry quick enough.

Bro picks up the other controller ( _"PLAYER TWO HAS JOINED THE GAME"_ ) and he mauls zombies for all of about ten seconds before turning his player on Dave's and hacking him to pieces.

Dave frowns, resisting the urge to throw the controller at the TV. No, he's twelve now - he just doesn't do those kind of things anymore. "Bro, what-"

"Gotta stay on your toes, kid. Never know when someone'll turn on you and hack you to pieces just like this poor fucker here," Bro says, motioning to the character still twitching in a pool of horribly pixelated blood.

Dave is deadpan in his reply. "I'll keep that in mind the next time a zombie apocalypse rolls around."

"Good man." He gets up off the couch, leaving Dave to play by himself. "I'll be-"

"Back later," Dave finishes. "I know."

Bro gives him one last glance. "Don't burn down the house while I'm gone," he says, and then he's gone.

Dave considers it for a while, but as funny as it would be to see his expression ( _"Honestly, Dave, what the fuck."_ ), Dave quite liked having a house to come back to. A house that wasn't black and shriveled and burned to the ground.

Maybe he'd do that when he moved out as a final, ironic goodbye gift.

Planning arson and exterminating zombies wasn't nearly as fun on an empty stomach, Dave soon found out, but "dinner on the table" apparently meant some of last night's Chinese that Bro had heated up and dumped unceremoniously on a plate. Honestly, there was not caring, and then there was purposely being an asshole. Half the food somehow missed the plate, decorating the table and floor.

In this case, Bro fell promptly into the category of "purposely being an asshole."

Dave sighs, pushing away all thoughts of Bro's horrible parenting. He just eats and cleans up Bro's mess and eventually goes back to slaughtering the undead. The idea of homework niggles at the back of his mind, and he's still thinking of maybe half assing it when he ends up falling asleep to the beautiful melody of chainsaw massacres.

He wakes up to someone crashing through the door and he shoots up, immediately alert and brandishing a sword. He's half expecting some kind of zombie horde after falling asleep playing the game, but no. It's just Bro.

But tonight something is different. It takes Dave a while to figure it out, but then his eyes focus and he can finally see who's stumbled in the door after him.

Tonight is the first time Bro's brought a man to the house.

Dave turns bright red, at a loss for what to do for the first time in four years. Bro sees him and Dave knows, just by his body stance, that he should not be there.

And the next second he's not, slumped back down on the couch, face buried very, very deep into the pillows. He's just glad that the other guy didn't see him - as far as he could tell, anyway. God he hoped that this guy wasn't one of the few that got up before Bro and raided their kitchen. That never turned out well. In fact, most of the time it ended with screams as they soon found themselves ass deep in swords or puppets or, if they were exceptionally unlucky, both.

Dave curls into a ball on the couch. In all honesty, he doesn't really care who Bro brings home. Even so, he's definitely not going back to his room tonight. _Just_ in case. It might be cold and it might be nowhere near as comfortable as his own bed, but like hell was he going to risk hearing Bro tonight.

He shivers. Damn, it really is cold, and Dave starts to wish he'd had the foresight to bring a blanket with him. Then, without a warning, he feels a weight fall around his shoulders and a gloved hand ruffle his hair but when he looks up, any trace of Bro is already gone.

Dave can't figure out whether he finds it sweet or somewhat disturbing that even in the _THROES OF PASSION_ (capitals for full effect, and Dave can't help but smirk a little at that), Bro still worried about his little brother.

He wraps the blanket closer around him. Probably a little disturbing, really.

  
-

  
Bro's about to leave for work when Dave's hand stops him, touching his arm lightly. Bro doesn't turn, just phases out of the way as a sword swings into the space where he used to be. In a few quick movements he's got Dave disarmed and pinned to the floor, knee pressed into his back.

Dave doesn't squeak or cry out. Instead he heaves up, trying to dislodge Bro from his back. It doesn't work, of course, what with Bro being older and heavier and _Bro_ , but it never hurt to try. In fact, it hurt more if he didn't fight back at all, as Dave had very quickly found out.

There's silence for a few seconds as Dave just struggles. Then Bro eases up and lets him back on his feet. He leans against the doorway and Dave brushes himself down. "What's on your mind," he says. With any other person it would've been a question, but what Bro was really saying went something along the lines of _"okay, you just tried to make a delicious piece of hot Bro-and-sword skewer. There's something on your mind, and you're going to tell me."_

Dave stares back at Bro, two pairs of glasses looking back at each other. Eventually he caves in and asks, "How does sex with another guy work?"

It's been three weeks since Bro brought the guy back with him, and honestly, Bro's a little surprised that Dave hadn't asked earlier. He kneels down - Dave's still pretty short, and Bro loved teasing him because of it - and starts by saying, "It's a little different. It's painful at first, and a bit disgusting if you think about it too much. You see, one guy… Now block your ears if you don't want to hear this."

Dave doesn't move. Bro continues. "Well, alright. Basically, one guy acts as the chick and has a meat rod rammed up his ass," he says, as blunt as possible. To his credit, Dave doesn't blush. Doesn't react at all, actually. "It can be painful at first, but eventually it's fucking awesome for both people involved."

He stands back up, reaches down and pats the top of Dave's head. "Right, well, I'm off to work now. I'll bring some pizza back for you."

Dave nods and Bro leaves. Then he flops back down on the couch and distracts himself from images of Bro and a faceless man with the glorious sound of his chainsaw sinking into zombies.


End file.
